Forty-eight Ways
by Celtic Blades
Summary: AU/Slash. Legolas just wants to help Eomer through the dark and lonely days after the War of the Ring, doesn't he? Eomer is impressed by the deep friendship between the elf and dwarf, not jealous, right? What does Eowyn hold against Legolas anyway? Is Gimli too blunt to handle such delicate emotions? Cultures clash and meld into...what? Eomer/Legolas Prequel to Fly on Broken Wings.
1. Alright

**Forty-eight Ways**

A/N - This is the prequel to Fly on Broken Wings. Turns out it was the middle of a trilogy, who knew!

_**Alright**_

_I'll pick you up when you're feeling down  
I'll put your feet back on solid ground  
I'll pick you up and I'll make you strong  
I'll make you feel like you still belong -_

_Reamonn_

He sat so still, perched on the cold polished stone beside the pallet. He hadn't moved for hours, his arms curled loosely around his knees. With his head bent, as if in prayer, the long, lank and dirty hair fell in curtains, hiding the handsome features of his face. Occasionally the head would rise, deep hazel eyes fixed on the prone figure of his sister beside him. Tears ran unashamedly and freely, dripping from his nose to his filthy trousers. Attendants moved swiftly through the Halls of Healing, pausing for a moment to check the injured woman, looking at the man with sympathy, and then passing on to tend to others within their skill. Eowyn was beyond all help they could give, her only hope lay in the hands of Gondor's king.

His watcher had stood just as long, hidden in the shadows of the long hall of the infirmary. Arms crossed, a look of sadness firmly fixed across his finely boned face, the elf never moved, seemingly oblivious to the stir and commotion of the healers, the moans and cries of the injured. Tenderhearted Gimli, unable to stay where he could not help, had taken himself off to find a place for them both to sleep, somewhere among the ruined homes on this level of the White City. Legolas continued his silent vigil, more disturbed by the desperation of the broken man across the room than all the rest. He seemed diminished, shrunken into himself. Eomer had lost his King and looked now to lose his sister. Echos of the scream Eomer had given when he found her, broken and motionless on the field, still rang in the elf's head. Remembered grief swept over the elf, flooding him with compassion. It had not been so very long since he had mourned Gandalf, the young hobbits. He prayed now that a similar miracle would happen for the man, that Eomer would not lose Eowyn this day. Where was Aragorn?

Perhaps it was the isolation of the man that caught him, Legolas thought. Pippin sat vigil with Merry and Beregond would not leave Faramir, not even trusting him to the King's care. But Eomer had lost more than good companions, close friends in the battle. He had lost his King, his uncle. The fate of Rohan now rested on his exhausted shoulders. The slight figure that lay unmoving was the last vestige of his family. And there was no one left to sit with Eomer, to comfort him.

With the silver moonlight slanting through the windows, the King finally arrived, a small basin in his hands. Without a word to Eomer, he began to bathe Eowyn's wounds. The sweet smell of the herbs infusing the water filled the air, bringing a sort of peacefulness amid all the chaos. Tenderly, Aragorn called her name, murmuring to her softly. She seemed to stir, and for the first time, hope flickered across the man's face. Legolas continued his watch.

Gimli came up to him and spoke softly. He understood the tense stillness of his companion, and was loathe to disturb him. So he gave his message simply, without any of their usual banter.

"I've found us a small room," he began, pushing strands of his hair, come loose from his red braids, back away from his face. "It's in a house close to here, so you can check on our friends at will." He looked up at his tall companion. "How's the young hobbit?"

Legolas started. "Merry?" he asked, raising a brow. He'd almost forgotten in his preoccupation with the man from Rohan. "He's recovering quickly. Hobbits are amazingly resilient."

Gimli nodded and buffeted his friend on the arm. "I'm off for a quick bite. Will you join me, lad?"

The elf shook his head, his eyes fixing once again on the crouched figure across the room. Gimli sighed. "Well, you can find the house, just down the street. It wasn't too badly damaged in the attack. The window on the second floor is much bigger than it's builder ever planned, thanks to the bombardment, but it'll do for us. Six or seven down, just ask around if you can't find it, lad." Legolas looked down with a swift smile, then went back to watching the scene before him.

Aragorn had finished his ministrations and Eowyn seemed now to be deep in the comfortable sleep of exhaustion. He clasped Eomer on the shoulder, speaking softly. Relief washed across the man's face like sunshine chasing away the slate grey clouds of winter. Aragorn left him, other patients waiting for the healing hands of the King. Eomer started to stand up, muscles locked into place protested, and he nearly fell. Legolas was beside him instantly, catching and holding him upright while blood rushed to his feet, tingling and stinging. Eomer, shocked at the speed at which the elf had caught him, tried to blurt out his thanks, but the joy in him was so great that the blaze in his hazel eyes caught Legolas with its intensity and held him there for a moment, both speechless.

"She will live!" Eomer exulted, catching the elf by the forearm. "She will live, Legolas!"

The elf smiled back, reflected happiness on the pale face. "I share your joy, Eomer. It was she who defeated the Witch-King. Were it not for her valor today, the battle may have gone quite differently."

Eomer gave him a wry grin. "I wouldn't have cared if she'd been home knitting! My sister will live!"

Legolas felt his lip twitch in an answering grin, and realized he was still holding Eomer. He released him and the man stooped to gently push a strand of hair away from his sister's face. He winced at the contrast between his sister's white skin and his own bloodstained hands.

"Will you stay with her tonight?" Legolas asked carefully, not quite understanding this new feeling of wanting to help the new King of Rohan, to be a friend when he had none there, to take some small responsibility for his well being. "It would be to the better were you to have a small meal, perhaps clean up a bit."

Eomer grinned at the formal cadence of the elf's speech. "Of course, Legolas." he replied, too overcome with relief to refuse anything to anyone. "But I don't want to leave her. She might wake, you see, and if I were not here..."

"I understand." Legolas told him. "If you would excuse me for a moment?" he asked, as the man continued to lovingly stroke the hair of the sleeping woman. The the elf left the Hall on silent feet.

Eomer gazed at Eowyn, grateful to the bottom of his heart that the bleak darkness had passed from her form. He loved this fierce sister of his, for all their disagreements. He honoured her for her courage and rejoiced that he would be able to beg her forgiveness. War may have been the province of men, but this woman had dared all in her desire to protect her people, her friends, all those that she loved, and she had payed a heavy price.

Legolas returned followed by the healer and several orderlies. With great gentleness and care they raised the sleeping woman's pallet and carried her to a small room off the main hall, away from the injured and dying. Eomer followed, raising an eyebrow at the elf, who shrugged. As Eowyn was carefully laid in the bed, the healer checking her over and bandaging the injured arm, other servants arrived, bringing hot water and food. Legolas nodded at Eomer. Eomer was surprised as the men quietly set down their burdens and left. He turned to the elf and raised an eyebrow at him.

"I don't need all this," he said. "There are others, who require.." but the elf cut him off.

"You do need this." He replied, motioning to the tray. "There is always hot water in the House of Healing. I appropriated some, that's all." He felt the pitcher. "Come, quickly, before the coffee cools." He poured out a cup, and the aroma tantalized the man from Rohan. Eomer splashed some hot water in a basin and rinsed off his hands and face. He pushed his hair back out of his eyes, and gratefully took the cup. It was hot and strong and he drained it. Returning to the basin he pulled off his bracers, and began to tug at the buckles of his armour. His tired fingers fumbled and silently the elf lent his nimble hands to the task. Eomer quickly washed and bolted down the simple meal that had been served, one eye always on his sister, surreptitiously wiping a suspicious dampness from his cheeks from time to time. Legolas smiled as he watched the man, and when he finished, pulled a chair bedside the bed.

"Come, sit beside her," the elf said quietly. Eomer fell heavily into the chair, the day's exhaustion catching up with him. He stretched and realized the elf had knelt down to remove the man's boots.

"I can do that for myself!" he protested. Legolas ignored him and fetched a blanket from the chest. He shook out its soft folds and covered the man. Eomer sighed.

"Rest, Eomer King" the elf told him. "There will be councils and planning tomorrow, but for this night, spend it in the company of your dear one."

The man grinned at him as the elf turned and left, signalling the orderly to take the trays. He reached out and took Eowyn's uninjured hand in his own. As he went to see how Merry was faring, Legolas' smile was like sunshine.


	2. Better Days

**Better Days**

_I will slip again, and you'll find me_  
_I will live again, and you'll find me_  
_Run, but carry the meanings of your past_

_- Breaking Benjamin_

Gondor had done the Rohirrim King proud. He had been tended by loving hands and now lay at peace on the rich marble stone in the chapel reserved for the great and good of the City. A cloak of gold had been laid beneath him and his hands gripped the sword that in life had been used to protect his people. Candlelight flickered about him, great sprays of early flowers surrounded the catafalque. The walls were hung in rich tapestries of green and gold, to honour the fallen king.

Eomer stood in the doorway of the chamber, eyes closed, lost in memories. He was oblivious to the rich aromatic torches that burned brightly, the guard of honour. He was back on the plains of his boyhood. Theoden had taken he and Theodred out riding, teaching them the tricks of lance and sword from horseback. He taught them chess, watching as they developed strategies and considered every move, stretched out on their bellies before the great fire in the Hall. Now Theodred slept under the hill with his fathers, and Theoden slept here, an august guest in the Citadel, waiting to return to the Mark, to lie beside his son at the last.

It was only when Eomer opened his eyes and turned that he saw the elf, standing quietly beside the oaken doors. He was surprised, for the dwarf had mentioned inspection of the ruins of the great gates of the city earlier and he had assumed the elf would join his friend.

"Forgive me," Legolas said softly, in his rich voice. Eomer noticed the trace of that delightful accent the elf tried so hard to hide. "I meant only to come and pay my respects. I had no wish to disturb you."

"There is nothing to forgive, Legolas." Eomer replied, forcing a smile to his lips, his eyes still dull with pain. "Thank you. My uncle had great admiration for the skills of the elves." He motioned for the elf to join him.

Legolas crossed to the bier where the body of the king reposed. Bowing his head, he placed his hand to his heart and spoke softly in Sindarin. Eomer did not understand the words, but the meaning was there, perhaps not as the Rohirrim expressed grief and sorrow, but plain all the same. The elf stood for a moment at the head of the white stone, eyes closed, and then, with a small nod, finished his rite and turned to the living.

"Shall I leave you here, Eomer King?" he asked softly. "I was going to try and find a tavern Pippin recommended. He claims they serve a decent ale. I would be glad of your company, should you wish to join me. Perhaps it is time you had a meal as well?"

Eomer looked at the clear blue eyes, earnest and full of sympathy, and turned away from the dead. "I think a cup would be welcome, thank you" he said, following his friend. "Before we do, however, I would like to look in on Eowyn."

"Of course," Legolas smiled. "Pippin tells me she is recovering quickly. He is my source of gossip amid all this bustle."

As they walked through the ruined streets of the city, winding downwards in its great spiral, Legolas asked tactful questions about Theoden. Eomer found himself disclosing happy memories of his uncle, pushing away his sorrow in telling of his goodness, his kindness, his love for his people. The tragedy of the past years slipped away in the remembered brightness of those times.

He also noticed, although the elf did not seem to, the curious glances that they received. Certainly there were enough men of Rohan wandering the streets that he would not be an object of attention, if must be the elf. Legolas moved with an unnatural grace, navigating around fallen brick and stone without slowing, never missing a step. He also seemed to be unconscious of the looks that ranged from curious to approving.

The elf himself was oblivious to all but the feelings of the man beside him. As Eomer's mood changed from black grief to smiling remembrance, an answering smile rose like dawn across his delicate features. By the time they had reached Eowyn's rooms, the black despair had lifted from the man, enabling him to greet his sister with composure.

Eowyn sat in her chair by the window, looking out at the blue skies, the white clouds drifting, avoiding the view to the east that reminded her of the great darkness that had consumed her. Her face lit in delight as her brother entered. Eomer was so happy to see her looking so much more robust than she had the day before that he missed the quick darkening of her eyes when she noticed his tall companion. Legolas did not.

"Eowyn, you look so well!" Eomer exclaimed, bending to kiss her on the forehead. "How do you feel?" he asked, taking her uninjured hand.

"Better," she told him, a slight blush colouring her pale skin. She looked to the elf. "Has Master Gimli also come?" she asked.

"No, my Lady," he said quietly. "The prospect of rebuilding on such a scale has him giddy. Had he known this was our destination, however, I don't think even that would have kept him away. I am sure he sends his best regards. I am pleased to see you so much recovered." The elf bowed his head, hand on heart. "I shall not intrude on your visit. I shall await you in the Hall, Eomer King." He left quickly.

"I ran into Legolas while I was with Uncle," Eomer told her quietly, pulling up the other chair and speaking quietly. "They have done him great honour, here in the White City. Merry tells me that he and Pippin were permitted to stand guard last night."

"I suppose Merry has become your squire now, brother?" she asked him, eager to turn the conversation. "Will you take him into your service?"

"If he wishes. I have a suspicion, though, that young Meriadoc would rather be your champion." He sighed and shook back his hair. "I was wrong about him, Eowyn, and about you, too."

"We've spoken of this before, Eomer," she said, taking both his calloused hands in hers. "You were right about the horrors of battle. I was a fool. A lucky fool, that he, that Lord Aragorn was able to bring both Merry and I back. Please," she asked him, a slight tremor in her voice now, "please don't speak of it again. It brings back too many dark reflections for me."

"Of course, Eowyn," he cried, springing from his seat and kneeling before her, wrapping his arms about her waist. "Forgive me. I just wanted you to know how wrong I was, about your courage..." he dropped his head in her lap and she gently brushed back the hair from his face. "I thought I had lost you, too. I don't know how to be King." he admitted quietly. "I'm afraid, now. I need your advice more than ever. I promise you now, never to disregard it."

"You will be a splendid king, Eomer." she told him, looking down at him fondly. "The Rohan will prosper again under your wise rule."

He looked up at her. "Wise?" He raised an eyebrow. "Not me, Eowyn. Are you sure you won't be queen? I would gladly stand aside for you."

"No, Eomer, you must do this. And," she added gently, lifting him up, "kings don't kneel. Stand up straight, now, look at you." She brushed imaginary dust from his trousers and motioned him to take his seat, with a sister's gentle ruthlessness. "All will be well. Lord Aragorn will be more than willing to assist you with any advice." She turned so he didn't see the faint stain on her cheeks.

They were interrupted by a confident knock at the door.

"Has Gimli come after all?" Eomer asked, as Eowyn sweetly called for the visitor to enter.

Faramir came in, his wide smile fading slightly as he recognized her companion. "Your Majesty," he bowed. "My Lady. I did not mean to disturb you. I will come again later if you will permit it?"

Eomer looked from Faramir to his sister and back again. "Not at all!" he said, rising. "I have an engagement with Legolas to keep. It is kind of you to come and check on Ewoyn, Faramir." Faramir's quick look down at the floor confirmed his thoughts, and kissing Eowyn once again, he left them to themselves.

Pippin's tavern was quickly found and a table found near the back of the crowded room. Legolas and Eomer squeezed together on the bench and when the servingman brought ale, Legolas wrinkled up his nose for a moment, while Eomer downed his tankard and asked for another.

"Before that, my good man, what food have you ready?" Legolas asked seriously, looking sideways at Eomer. "My friend hasn't eaten at all today."

"There's stew, my lord," the man told them.

"No lord, just an elf," Legolas replied with a smile. "Full of nourishing turnips or some such, I gather?"

"Well, yes, my, er, Master Elf," the man said, colouring slightly, but with an answering grin. "But I do believe a bit of pork may have been run through the broth sometime during the day."

"Better and better!" Legolas chuckled. "Bring us two bowls of your best then, and a pitcher of beer." The man inclined his head and left.

Eomer let out the laugh he'd been holding. "Why here, for turnips and beer, when there is better to be had at the Citadel? And why try for anonymity? There is exactly one elf in the city, that I know of. Rumors spread, my friend. You and the dwarf are not easily mistaken."

Legolas' eyes twinkled as he waved a finger at Eomer. "Ah, but there are rumors and there are secrets, and in the city nothing is unknown. Gimli and I shall be forgotten by everyone but our friends very shortly." He looked across the room. "Don't tell Gimli, but I don't mind taverns all that much. He drinks too much when he gets the chance, and, well, you saw him at Meduseld. I have to haul him to bed, and then he keeps me up all night."

For some unfathomable reason, Eomer was startled at this. "Do you usually share a room then?" he asked.

"Yes," the elf sighed. "Rumor says it is because we are the best of friends, never to be separated, but the real reason is that I require much less sleep than the rest, and his snoring would wake a dragon." He shook his head. "He would tell you it is so that he can keep watch over me, so that he will never have to explain to my father why he let something terrible happen to me." Eomer stared at him. "He, Gimli, and my father, too, I suppose, consider me somewhat young to be out questing."

"And are you?" Eomer blurted, before realizing it might be rude.

"Gandalf and Elrond didn't think so," Legolas grinned. "I'm not planning to go home for some time, so I don't know what my father is going to say."

"You ran away from home?" Eomer laughed. "So Gimli is your guardian, in a way? Are he and your father friends?"

"Let us say that our families have a history. Gimli is not my guardian, although he is my best friend." He looked around the tavern again. "I don't have many in this part of the world."

"Well, here is another," Eomer told him, as the servingman brought their food. All the black gloom of the morning had disappeared.


	3. C'Mon!

**C'Mon!**

_What would my head be like  
If not for my shoulders  
Or without your smile  
May it follow you forever  
May it never leave you  
To sleep in the stone,  
May we stay lost on our way home_

_- Panic at the Disco with FUN_

The great halls of the citadel had been thrown open to be made into temporary accommodation for those who had lost their homes. The kitchens laboured day and night to feed the masses who worked diligently to clear the rubble and begin the rebuilding. Despite the desolation wrought by the war, the citizens of Gondor found solace for their sorrow in the victory the small hobbit had won for them and faced the remaking of their great city and their shattered lives with renewed determination.

Taking a break from organizing the work crews, apportioning resources and settling innumerable disputes between craftsmen and merchants, Aragorn and Eomer made their way across the crowded room that had once been a great ballroom, now serving as a dining hall, with rude tables and benches brought in to feed the masses. They nodded to those who bowed at the passage of the kings. The slight lull their appearance made in the noisy dining hall allowed them to hear the voice they sought. They smiled at each other as they crossed to where Gimli lectured Legolas.

The dwarf had paused in his dinner to emphasize his comments with brisk movements of his hands. Legolas sat across from him, meal finished, arms crossed. Gimli's emphatic words seem to bounce off the elf's calm bearing.

"That is why the caves are so incredible." Gimli was saying. "They need so little from us to fully expose their beauty. It's a wondrous thing, like nothing any dwarf has found. A month would hardly be enough time to see everything."

Legolas raised an eyebrow. "Fangorn," he said simply.

Aragorn's chuckle alerted them to his and Eomer's presence. They began to push out of their chairs to stand, but Aragorn waved them back. He and Eomer sat beside them, accepting ale and plates of stew from the serving man who ran to attend them. The savoury aroma reminded Eomer he hadn't eaten since the night before and he took his first spoonful without accounting for the heat. Legolas smiled at him as he quickly tried to blow air into his mouth to cool it.

"The debate continues, I see" Aragorn said, in a resigned tone, as Gimli took another bite from his bread. "Any closer to a resolution?"

"He won't see reason, lad." Gimli said, speaking around the crumbs. "Obviously the caves are the right choice, but he" and here he jerked a thumb at Legolas for emphasis, "is being stubborn again and has a thousand arguments against it."

"Debate?" Eomer asked, having swallowed and reaching for his ale. "What about?"

"On what to see first," Aragorn interjected, as Gimli nodded and took another bite of the fresh bread, oblivious to the butter seeping into his beard. "Gimli has his heart set on the Glittering Caves at Helm's Deep but Legolas is holding out for Fangorn. It's been going on for some time now."

Gimli swallowed a mouthful of ale. "Only because elves won't admit they're wrong. We've been sleeping in forests for months, walking through woods, riding through woods, visiting in woods, stopping to pass the time of day with every tree we've run across." Eomer snorted at that and the dwarf continued. "Now, when we have the opportunity, no, the privilege of stopping in a place as special, as thrilling, as spectacular as the caves, he digs in his heels and demands to go and see more trees. What is there in forests to beguile a dwarf, I ask you?" Gimli fairly slammed his tankard back onto the table. Eomer glanced at Aragorn who had started his meal placidly, obviously unperturbed by the dwarf's vehemence.

Legolas tilted his head. "Lothlorien," he replied, with a respectful tone in his voice. Gimli stopped his tirade and, to Eomer's surprise, a look of incredible tenderness passed over his face. He looked fondly at the elf for a moment, but then drew his brows down and continued.

"You see?" he asked, waving a hand in his friend's direction. "He's an answer for everything! How can you argue with that?" The dwarf sighed. "Nay, lad, we'll not visit Lothlorien again."

Aragorn chuckled at them. Eomer, hoping to forestall more of the argument, broke in.

"What is it about the caves that makes them so special, Gimli?"

"I'd not expect a man to appreciate them, lad, but to a dwarf, they are the most miraculous things ever seen! Crystal and gem formed perfectly by nature, lovingly carved out by the waters of the earth itself. It's enough to make you weep." He smiled again, with wonder this time, and the memory of the short time he'd been able to see them.

"Whichever you decide to do first, the Mark is welcome to you both." Eomer said. "I'd be more than happy to have you visit for a good long time. Do you have any certain plans before your return to the north?"

"The elf's got wanderlust." Gimli told him bluntly. "Won't be happy until he's met every blade of grass in the world."

"That's not it." Legolas said curtly, causing the others to stare at him. "I know my home, but the world is so much more than I ever could have imagined. I want to know what else there is. I've spent my whole life in one place, and now I have the chance to see everything else." He shrugged. "I'm curious."

Gimli snorted. "So the first thing you want to see is another forest?"

Legolas looked down at him. "You don't have to come," he said candidly. "I'm old enough to travel myself." Aragorn raised an eyebrow at him.

"Really now?" Gimli said. "I'll just drop off a note with your father on my way through the Mirkwood, shall I?" His voice dripped sarcasm. "Not to worry, Lord King, I've left the Prince talking to some Ents. He'll be home whenever he takes a notion to." He laughed. "Not likely, lad. I know your father's temper."

"I agree with Gimli on this, my friend," Aragorn said, looking from the dwarf to the elf. "It's only natural that your father should be appraised of your plans. He may require you back in the Mirkwood."

"As the Prince, I'm surprised he allowed you to come at all." Eomer mused, thinking over his own recent bereavement. "Things can change so quickly, and if something dire and unexpected should happen to him..."

"To Thranduil?" Gimli burst in, a look of incredulity in his eyes. "Lad, Thranduil is the dire and unexpected that happens to other folk!"

Eomer looked to Legolas, who was grinning at the dwarf. "That's about right," he said.

"Happen to Thranduil!" Gimli sputtered, reaching for his ale again. "The Elf-King is nigh indestructible!" He raised his tankard in salute. "Wishing him nothing but the best, of course, elf," he said.

Legolas merely continued to grin, a mischievous twinkle in those sky blue eyes.

"I had no idea," Eomer whispered to Aragorn, whose roguish eyes danced with laughter. "Theoden could be a terror..." he trailed off.

"He's the Elf-King," Aragorn explained. "His rule is absolute and elves do live forever." He shrugged and mopped up the last of his stew with his bread. "He's something of a legend in the north."

"Do the dwarves use him to frighten children?" Eomer asked, amused.

"Don't even joke about it, lad," Gimli shivered. "His Hall is deep in the earth, with dungeons so secure not even a dwarf could escape."

"As you would know," Legolas said softly.

"That's about enough of that, gentlemen," Aragorn interrupted. "Remember where you are." He looked pointedly about the room of working folk. "They wouldn't understand."

Legolas smirked and raised an eyebrow at Gimli, who scowled for a moment, then broke into a low chuckle.

"Aye, Aragorn, you're right about that. Now," he said, wiping at his beard with his sleeve, "I've a meeting with some of your so-called masons." He shook his head. "I'll not see them do a patch job on the great walls of the White City. Whole sections will have to be pulled down and rebuilt. Not only for you, lad," he said, nodding at Aragorn, but we owe it to the memory of Boromir, who loved this city, these people so much."

Legolas lowered his head for a moment, and Aragorn closed his eyes. While Eomer had known Boromir only slightly, he had liked the man, and he was beginning to have his own personal reasons for wishing Minas Tirith restored to its former glory.

"You know stonework, then, Gimli?" Eomer asked.

"All dwarves know the stone, Eomer," Gimli told him with pride.

"It's what their heads are made of," Legolas pointed out. Aragorn glared at him, but Gimli ignored the elf.

"I've a few questions about Helm's Deep, if you've the time," Eomer continued. "I have some ideas, but my experience is very limited. Could we talk for a few minutes on your way to this meeting?"

"It's not for a while yet, Eomer, since Aragorn has to go and soften a few heads before they'll listen. Why don't we discuss it now?" The dwarf looked around the crowded room. "We'll make way for some of these other poor souls to get their bite and sup."

"I'll send for you, Gimli," Aragorn called as the dwarf, every ready to talk masonry led the King of Rohan away, asking basic questions regarding the construction of the fortress.

"Will you need me?" Legolas asked his friend. Aragorn looked a little surprised.

"You're volunteering for an afternoon of reconstruction plans?"

The elf's eyes followed the tall man and the sturdy dwarf. "Well, you know how he gets," he said vaguely. "Someone needs to remind him to take a break now and then."

The open windows filled Eomer's room with bright sunshine as Eomer and Gimli continued their discussion, hunched over the papers spread on the table. Legolas, seated at one end of the long table, jotted notes down as they spoke, occasionally adding a remark of his own. It surprised Eomer at how quickly Gimli had seen to the heart of his questions and how expertly he outlined the plans for the repair of the Deeping Wall. He had been surprised when the dwarf warrior explained that he did, indeed, understand stone, but he had definitely underestimated his skills as an engineer. Diagrams for scaffolding and designs for the rebuilding appeared quickly, and without the usual banter between dwarf and elf. They were both eager to help in the restoring of the world they found themselves in.

A knock at the door disturbed them, and at Eomer's call, Eowyn came in. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes bright. The deep green of her gown made her face appear as a delicate flower, raising from the grasslands. She drew back slightly as she realized her brother was not alone in the rooms assigned to him.

"Eowyn, welcome!" Eomer exclaimed, as they stood up. He crossed the room to take her hand and lead her in. "We're working on the plans for Helm's Deep." He kissed her on the cheek and brought her to a chair. Gimli poured her a goblet of wine and handed it to her with a deep bow.

"My lady, you look wonderful! Your recovery is a great joy to us all." He beamed up at her. Legolas inclined his head politely.

Eowyn smiled brightly at the dwarf, but some of the sparkle left her eyes as she faced the steady gaze of the elf. She turned quickly to Eomer.

"I had wanted to speak privately with you, Eomer," she said. She took a sip of the wine. "If this is a bad time, I can come back."

"Not at all!" Gimli said, preventing any answer Eomer might make. "We were just about to take a break. I need to meet with Aragorn before we go much farther with these." He turned to the elf. "Come, Legolas, let's not dawdle."

Legolas bowed his head and giving Eomer a rueful smile, followed the dwarf out the door. He did not mention the trace of something, embarrassment perhaps, that had swiftly filled Eowyn's eyes as Gimli mentioned Gondor's king.

"How are things proceeding?" Eowyn asked. "Gimli's help will be invaluable."

Eomer settled his big body back into his chair. "Yes," he agreed, pouring himself a goblet of the wine. "His knowledge of stone is formidable. Legolas has made some good suggestions as well. It appears the hall of the Elven-King is underground."

Eowyn made a small sound of dismissal. "You doubt him?" Eomer asked.

She shook her head put her wine back on the table. "Of course not. Gimli has told me of some of his exploits. It's just that I don't understand those two."

Eomer lowered his brows. "How so?" he asked her.

"Gimli is so charming, such an outgoing person. He is quick to laugh and quite gallant." Her face brightened as she thought of her dwarven friend. "But Legolas, well, he's always so serious, so proud. He hardly speaks. He seems...condescending." She lowered her eyes, remembering a certain day, certain words. "And yet, they are the best of friends, still sharing a room. I would have thought their differences would have made such a friendship difficult."

Eomer shrugged. He didn't recognize the elf Eowyn described, but then again, she'd not spent much time with him. He was sure as she got to know him better, her opinion would change. "Not everything worthwhile is easy," he said. "What was it you wanted to talk to me about."

Her face lit up. "Faramir."


	4. Trouble

**Trouble**

_The trouble is you're keeping me up at night,  
Twist and turn til the morning light.  
You're trouble, you're trouble.  
The only way out is the way you came in,  
Let the siren call, Let the storm begin,  
Cause you're trouble, you're trouble._

_One Two_

The hammering on the bedroom door was insistent. Gimli grumbled loudly, he had gotten comfortable at last on the small bed he shared with the elf and had been in that blissful place between relaxation and dreaming. Legolas was perched in the window, one knee bent, looking out at the stars and humming softly to himself.

"What?" the dwarf demanded, somewhat put out by the lateness of the hour and the importunity of their visitor.

"Is that you, Gimli?" Pippin's voice came through the wood. "We've had a devil of a time finding you!"

"We've news!" Merry exclaimed, bursting in, followed closely by Pippin. Both wore their regular clothes, not the livery of their offices, and looked full of importance and impatience.

"Is anything wrong?" Gimli snapped at them.

"Not at all!" Pippin beamed at him. "It's good news for a change."

"We could use some," Gimli replied, pulling himself to a sitting position in the bed. Legolas grinned at the hobbits from his window, then reached down to light the candle on the press they used as a table. The press, along with the bed and a single chair were the rooms only furnishings. A few old rugs lay on the wooden floor and the tapestries covering the cold white walls could have done with some mending. The hobbits looked about themselves in the flickering light, then at each other.

"This is a very small room they've put you in, Gimli," Merry observed. "I'm sure you would have been given better quarters had you asked. We've been given quite spacious accommodation, as befitting our status as heroes." Merry's eyes twinkled with good humour at his fatuous little speech.

"Do you realize how many refugee families could be housed in rooms that size?" Gimli pointed out. "This," and he spread his arms to encompass their little room, "fits our needs just fine, thank you." He looked over at the elf, who winked at the hobbits. "Get the ale out, will you, lad," he asked Legolas. "I'm sure the boys didn't just come to gloat about our little attic hideaway."

Legolas unfolded himself and poured ale for them, Merry taking the one chair while Pippin sat on the bed beside Gimli. "Cheers!" the hobbit said, raising the tankard.

"It's very exciting, what's happening," Merry said, sipping at his drink. "The elves are almost here."

Gimli and Legolas looked at each other, then started to laugh.

"It's not exactly a secret, Merry," Legolas told him. "I met with Elrond's messenger myself."

The hobbit's face fell. "Then you know that the Lady Arwen..."

He didn't get a chance to finish the sentence. Legolas, with his cat-like speed had clamped a hand over his mouth and whispered to him and Pippin in a ferocious voice, "We don't say that. Ever. Do. You. Understand?" Merry nodded while Pippin, eyes wide, hastily agreed.

"You've not told anyone else this news, lads?" Gimli asked them sternly.

"We'd decided to share it with you first," Pippin said.

"Frodo told you?" Legolas asked, his dark brows drawn down and he scowled at them. Silently, the hobbits shook their heads. "Frodo does not gossip. Nor does Samwise. Therefore I can only conjecture that you've been eavesdropping again." Legolas let go of Merry and looked over at Gimli. "Aragorn is not to know about a certain guest at the coronation," he continued, looking back down at the hobbits. "Lord Elrond himself has decided this. You will find that he is not as understanding as the dwarf over there. Or me, for that matter."

"So go back to your great bloody rooms and keep your bloody mouths shut, and let decent folk be about their rest." Gimli growled, draining his ale and handing the cup to Pippin, who put it back on the press.

"About that," Merry began, rubbing the back of his neck.

"We can't," Pippin interjected. "Sam's shown us the door. Given us the boot. Said we were keeping Frodo from his sleep." He shook his curly head. "And after everything we'd done to keep his spirits up."

"We were a bit loud, perhaps," Merry added. "But I think that Sam overreacted a bit."

"Surely heroes such as yourselves can find another room befitting your status," Legolas chuckled, but Gimli grimaced.

"Space is at a premium, lad," he said darkly. "And with the elves arriving in the morning and the coronation set for the day after, I'm willing to bet there's nowhere else for them to go."

"You can't mean," Legolas gasped, looking horrified, "that we keep them in here, with us? Surely not, Gimli!"

"The commons are already packed in like cordwood, Legolas. We could at least keep them out of trouble."

"I'll go talk to Sam myself," the elf said. "Where are we going to put them?"

"We've slept on the floor before," Merry pointed out. "I wouldn't try talking to Sam in this mood, Legolas. It's like he's become Frodo's mother."

"Frodo carries more than you'll ever understand," Gimli said warningly.

"Don't you think we know that, Gimli?" Pippin retorted, holding up both hands. "We see the change in him more than anyone. We're family, after all! So don't lecture us about Frodo!"

"Calm down, all of you!" Legolas said fiercely. "We all love and honour Frodo. Just as we honour you for the great things you have done in this war. But now," he paused, tapping his lip with a string-calloused finger, "we need to find you a place to sleep."

"Make up your mind to it, lad, they're stuck with us. Tomorrow they can go down on bended knee and beg Sam's forgiveness. Tonight, just find them some blankets and roll them up on the floor." Gimli said, tiredly. "They won't wake me."

"Nothing wakes you," Legolas said tartly, pacing the floor. "But you know they'll talk for hours! No, we'll do it this way. They can share the bed with you tonight. I wanted to get properly cleaned up before the elves arrived anyway." He stared at the hobbits who were regarding him with disbelief. "It's your own fault, the pair of you!"

"But the snoring and the, well, the other..." Merry said, floundering, waving his hands about.

"Don't worry, he's not drunk enough for that," Legolas told him. "Here, hold this for me." He handed Merry the candlestick and other things from its top and opened the press, removing clean clothes from it.

"It's not a very big bed," Pippin said, almost reproachfully.

"We fit quite nicely," Gimli said. "If two hobbits take up more space than one skinny elf, I'll shave my beard. The feather mattress is quite good."

"He stole it from anther bed," Legolas admitted, closing the press and replacing the candle. "Somewhere on this level there's some poor soul with the old one."

"A small compensation for all our service to the city," Gimli said, smugly. "Now, I'm going to sleep. Blow out that candle and get into bed."

The hobbits shot one last desperate glance at the elf who was halfway into the hall. "I'll see you at breakfast," he told them, closing the door behind him and grinning madly.

Legolas luxuriated in the bath, stretching out and allowing his muscles to relax. The tenseness he hadn't realized he'd been carrying left him, and he soaked for quite a while, letting his thoughts wander. Merry and Pippin, he mused, grown so much over the past months and still so much the same! He sighed and ducked his head under the water, and gave his hair a thorough washing. When he was done he dried quickly, shifting into trousers and the loose tunic he'd brought with him. And then he began to spend what, for anyone other than an elf, was an inordinate amount of time on his hair. He wanted it to dry perfectly straight, with no hint of twist or the kinks that braiding it wet left.

He smiled absently as he continued to reminisce about the pair of hobbits, now most assuredly either pelting Gimli with pillows or snuggled in beside him like kittens. The dwarf was right and Frodo would never completely recover from the evil of the ring. Sam would, if he didn't wear himself out with the care of Frodo first, but Merry and Pippin would never lose that love of life that had carried them willingly through so much danger. He wondered to himself where the next part of their adventures would take them and what kind of leaders they would become when they returned to that beloved Shire of theirs. The Farthings would never be the same, he chuckled to himself.

So he was surprised when the sound of another late night bather disturbed him.

"Aragorn?" he called softly, thinking he recognized the steps of the man.

"Legolas?" Eomer called back, "is that you?"

"Why are you up so late?" the elf asked, turning to face the man. He continued to slowly pull the comb through the cascades of white-blond hair that fell to the small of his back.

"You're up early," Eomer corrected. "It's only a few hours till dawn."

Legolas sighed. "Unexpected company," he explained. "Your esquire and Faramir's guard managed to upset Sam enough to banish them from their rooms. Naturally they made their way to the only fools willing to take them in."

"And did they continue their revels, driving you out to search for peace and quiet?" Eomer asked with a low chuckle.

"Not exactly," Legolas laughed gently. "I don't know if you've seen our quarters, but they aren't exactly palatial. I left them to the tender mercies of a tired dwarf. Perhaps this way they will learn to appreciate what's been given them."

"It was kind of you to give up your bed for them, though," Eomer said, settling on a bench opposite.

"Not kind at all, I'm afraid," Legolas said contritely, his blue eyes dancing with mischief in the lamplight. "There is only the one bed. And Gimli is not one to give up his blankets without a tussle."

Eomer forced a smile, although his mouth suddenly went dry.

"Fortunately, I, being an elf, do not feel the cold, and seldom have need for covers," Legolas continued blithely, still pulling the comb with long and even strokes. "Although I will confess to pulling them off him occasionally, just to keep him from becoming too complacent."

Eomer shifted a bit in his seat and cleared his throat. "Won't you be exhausted when you meet the elves this morning?" he asked, changing the subject.

"Not at all," Legolas told him. "I am looking forward to it very much." He wondered at the slight pulling back of the man. "Have you met Lord Elrond yourself?"

Eomer shook his head. "No, the only elf I know is you," he admitted. He closed his eyes against the sight of the dead elves that had fallen defending Helm's Deep. He remembered the harsh Sindarin that had passed between Aragorn and Legolas when Theoden demanded all the bodies be burned to prevent disease from spreading. Legolas had stalked off in a rage. It had been Gimli who had brought the elf back, hours later, still simmering with anger, but controlled and polite to both Theoden and Aragorn.

"Are there any special customs I should know?" he asked, opening his eyes again, and pushing the memory of that dark day behind him. "I wouldn't want to embarrass Aragorn, as my host, or you, as my friend."

"I shouldn't worry overmuch," Legolas told him, shrugging slightly. "You are the King of Rohan, after all. If you wish, I will introduce you to him personally." The corners of his mouth twitched upwards, a slight grin. "And you must accompany Gimli and I when we visit them after the formalities. The singing will be wonderful!"

"I suppose I shan't see much of you when they arrive, then," Eomer sighed unconsciously. "You'll be among your friends again."

Legolas' smile faded a bit. "I don't know about that," he admitted, his hands slowing in their task. "You see, Gimli and I, well, it is an unusual friendship. There are some old grudges..." he trailed off, lowering his comb. "Why are you here so early?" he asked suddenly, pushing back a section of hair and starting on another.

"Couldn't sleep," Eomer admitted, shrugging. "I started thinking about all the things that need to be done back in the Mark. I don't know how to get it all done."

"One thing at a time," the elf said. "Thranduil says start with the most important thing and work down. Delegate what you can. Your people trust you."

"Yes," Eomer said tiredly, "but they love Eowyn. I need her."

"Surely she will do all she can to help you," Legolas pointed out. "She is the White Lady, the heroine of both Rohan and Gondor. No other woman is held in as high esteem!"

"She," Eomer almost whispered, "has her own plans, I fear." Legolas said nothing, waiting, with baited breath. "She will follow her heart, my sister. And who am I to stop her? Hasn't she earned the right to happiness for herself?"

"Of course," Legolas said quietly. "I pray she may find it."


	5. Ever The Same

_**Ever the Same**_

_We were drawn from the weeds  
We were brave like soldiers  
Falling down under the pale moonlight  
You were holding to me  
Like someone broken  
And I couldn't tell you..._

_Rob Thomas_

The citizens of the White City were mad with joy. Not only had their king returned and been crowned by the White Wizard himself, he had taken the Lady Arwen, the Evenstar, as his queen. The coronation celebrations had turned into an impromptu wedding, Gandalf officiating, and more than one man there had wiped away a tear when they beheld the awe with witch Aragorn gazed at his Lady. Now everywhere in the city people rejoiced, in one noisy, boisterous party.

Legolas sought out Eomer, finding him standing somewhat to the side of the dancing in the Hall, flanked by Higa and Merry. The hobbit was once again in his armour, signifying that he was serving his lord. The man smiled as he accepted the arm the elf offered, gripping it firmly, while finding himself fascinated by the elf's robes, the silver coronet holding his hair in place. Even among the others of his kind, he stood out, perhaps because while the others glided with lazy grace through the rooms, on occasion Legolas twitched the skirts of the robes impatiently.

"A great day, Eomer King!" the elf crowed. "What think you of our new Queen?"

Eomer's face softened for an instant. "Surely she is the most beautiful woman, your pardon, elf, in the entire world," he said, with tones of respect.

"Don't let Gimli hear you say that, Sire," Merry said, an impudent smile dancing on his face.

"Merry!" Legolas interjected. His eyes turned hard as he glared at the hobbit. Merry did his best to look contrite, but it was impossible to keep the grin from spreading once again. Legolas sighed. "I've heard there's Dorwinion being served. Why don't you fetch some for us?"

"Fetch?" Merry protested, while Eomer reached down and tousled the curly hair in a gesture of affection. Squaring his shoulders, the hobbit strode off through the crowd, smiling widely as he returned the nods of greeting given him.

"He means well," Eomer said, while Higa grinned. "Theoden indulged him."

"Everyone indulges him," Legolas said, meeting Eomer's eyes. "He's altogether too charming for his own good."

"A gift indeed," Eomer said. "One that many would wish to posses."

Legolas snorted. "Charm is best used by those who do not think they have it," he remarked. Eomer stared at him for a moment and then started to chuckle. Legolas' lip lifted in an answering smile.

"Forgive me, I sound like the dwarf!" he said, patting down the sleeve of his robe. "It's the formality of the dress, I think. It always makes me feel as if I should be as wise as Elrond, dispatching advice to the world."

Eomer's hazel eyes twinkled. "Lord Elrond was dancing with my sister not a half hour past," he told the elf. "He looked as though he was enjoying himself thoroughly."

"I believe Gimli was determined to take a turn around the room with her," Legolas replied. "I hope her health is up to the strain."

"It seems the Lord Faramir has her now," Higa said, nodding to the couple as the patterns of the dance brought them to that side of the hall. "The Lady seems in great spirits, my lord."

"She does, doesn't she," Eomer mused, watching them, as a hint of something, sadness perhaps, or longing, flickered across his face. He reached up to push his hair back and smiled.

"The Lady has regained her full strength, then, Eomer King?" Legolas asked, wondering if he had imagined that shadow that crossed the man's brow.

"Yes, we're having trouble getting her to rest at all," the king answered, tilting his head and nodding slightly at Higa, who bowed and drew away from them. Eomer took Legolas by the arm and drew him in closer, speaking in a soft voice. "She's begun helping the healers in the Halls. She says she's foresworn battle forever."

"Healing is a noble calling," Legolas said cautiously, wondering what was sticking in the back of Eomer's mind.

"That's not the problem at all," Eomer said, in a tight voice. "Faramir has asked me, formally, for her hand!"

"He has?" Legolas replied in a shocked whisper, even as he lifted his eyes to find the couple. Eowyn, head back and smiling, caught his look and faltered in her steps.

"What is it?" Faramir asked quickly, tightening the arm around her waist. "Is it too much? Shall I return you to your brother?" He looked over at Eomer.

"No, no," Eowyn said, smiling determinedly at him. "Would you take me out for some air?" she asked. "A sudden flush of heat, that's all."

"Of course," Faramir told her, his eyes tender. He led her gently through the crowd to the arch that lead out to the courtyard.

"I told him she was free to decide for herself," Eomer continued, nodding as they left. "What else could I say?" He was surprised as he realized how much he took the elf's confidence for granted. "She's agreed to come back to Rohan for a little while, for Theoden's funeral and to help me get settled. Then she will return to marry him."

"I wish them great joy," Legolas said, automatically, his eyes clouded with confusion. "He is a good man, a man worthy of her."

"I know," Eomer sighed, "but it's so sudden."

"What is, Sire?" Merry asked, popping up between them so unexpectedly that he startled them both. He carried four cups and had a wineskin slung over his shoulder. "I couldn't find the Dorwinion, Legolas, but Pip assures me this is almost as good." He passed the cups, motioning to Higa to return and take his, and filled them quickly. "Shall we toast Strider's good fortune? Or perhaps my Lady's joy?"

Eomer stared down at him, while Legolas lowered his brows. "What are you talking about, Merry?" he growled.

"Anyone with eyes can see that my Lady is content and happy," Merry protested, his eyes wide and looking as innocent as he could. "Pip says my Lord Faramir wanders about with exactly the same look Sam has when he's thinking about Rosie Cotton."

"An esquire does not gossip about his betters, young hobbit," Higa said warningly.

"I'm not gossiping. I wish the Lady Eowyn all the happiness in the world." His face took on a ferocity that forced Higa back a step. "Who is there who knows her who wouldn't wish her the same? Show me the man and I will show him the error of his ways!"

"Enough, Merry," Eomer said, laying a hand on the hobbits shoulder. "You do your lady great honour. But this is not common knowledge, you understand."

Merry grunted, his eyes still flashing. "I'm not an idiot, Eomer King."

o0o0o0o

The summer sun shone bright and hot on the plains of Rohan, the day they laid Theoden to rest with his forefathers. Eowyn sang his death song, supported silently by Faramir who stood directly behind her. Merry, the tears coursing down his face unapologetically, was hugged fiercely by Pip, dressed in his best livery. Eomer stood still and silent, unable to find release in the tears the hobbits found so easily.

Once the rites were over and the company dispersed for the evening, Eomer found himself wandering the halls of Meduseld alone. He had waved off Aragorn's offer of companionship, Gimli's offer of a quiet pipe, sent Eowyn to Faramir for comfort. Almost automatically he found himself in the stables, looking for the assurance he always found in the care of Firefoot. A flash of white in the gloom of Arod's stall suddenly brought a half smile to his lips.

"Is he well, Legolas?" Eomer asked, leaning over the stall door.

The elf's head turned toward him, Arod's hoof still in his hand. "He is happy to be back with his friends, Eomer. He wishes to visit with them before we return to Gondor."

"So he shall," Eomer said. The elf released the hoof, caressed the horse's head gently, and turned to the King.

"Are you well, Eomer?" he asked, looking intently at him.

"I'm fine, I just..." then he stopped and shook his head. "I wish Theoden were still with us. I'm not ready for this. I was never intended to be king, just a warrior. I don't know how to rebuild a kingdom, how to lead men in peace."

"But you do know how to lead men," Legolas told him gently. "Your uncle gave you that gift. You can be strong in adversity and just with the weak."

Eomer looked over the half door at the elf, desolation written in his features. Legolas, seeing the bleakness in those hazel eyes, opened the door and pulled the man into the stall. He embraced him savagely, wrapping his arms around him and holding him tightly. "You can be king, Eomer," he whispered into his ear. "Do not doubt yourself so much!"

"_I don't want to be,_" Eomer replied brokenly, even as he returned the embrace. "They're not supposed to be gone, Legolas! Theodred, Theoden, they were supposed to always be here. All I have left is Eowyn, and even she is leaving me!" His knees buckled and he fell against the wall of the stable, the elf still twined about him. Together they slid down until they were awkwardly sitting in the straw.

"Not forever," Legolas murmured, as the grief Eomer had fought for so long stormed up in his soul and broke free, tearing his throat with sobs, tears flowing freely. Arod nickered nervously at them, and the elf spoke softly in Sindarin, calming the beast, soothing the man. Eomer held on to Legolas as if the elf were the only thing anchoring him in the world, while the sorrow and loss spilled out of him in tidal waves of pain.

"Hush now, Arod," Legolas said tenderly, as he held his friend, still speaking in Sindarin. "Mir, oh, my Mir, my treasure, it will pass, this grief. Let it go, let the memories of your loved ones replace all the emptiness left in your soul. Let me help you." He gently pushed back the tangled hair, lay his cheek against Eomer's. When at last the great tortured spasms began to calm, he kissed the man's cheek, his hair. "It will be well, I promise. I will always be here for you, my friend," he whispered, switching back to Eomer's language.

Instead of pulling away in shame at his weakness, as Legolas half expected, the man pulled him in closer, burying his face in the elf's hair, breathing in its sun-kissed fragrance. Legolas relaxed into him willingly, absently realizing he was half sitting in the man's lap. Almost lazily he pushed Eomer's hair behind his ear, caressed the back of his neck, stroked his back. He felt Eomer tense and pulled back, meeting the gaze in those hazel eyes, full of longing and desire.

It felt like the most natural thing in the world for Legolas to bend down and gently kiss Eomer, tasting the hot tears that had spilled to his lips. He licked the salt away, murmuring "Mir nin", feeling Eomer's hot breath in his mouth.

Eomer suddenly pulled back and all but spilled the elf out of his lap. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," he whispered, looking at the elf with horror.

"For what?" Legolas asked, suddenly embarrassed. "Dumping me in the straw?"

"I didn't mean for that to happen," Eomer said, scrambling to his feet. "I mean..." he broke off, looking away, at the ceiling, at Arod, who returned his gaze, puzzled at the behaviour of his visitors.

"I don't mind, Eomer," he told the man, standing gracefully and brushing straw from his trousers. "You needed that. Your secrets are my secrets, never worry."

"But, then," Eomer stuttered, refusing to look at Legolas.

"Desire after grief is a very human emotion, Aragorn tells me," Legolas said, in a matter of fact tone. "You have nothing to apologize for." He patted his hair down, trying to hide the trembling in his hands, the burning in his chest. "It is only your body telling you that you are still alive, still have so much to live for." He hoped the dark of the stable hid the colour that flushed his cheeks. "I believe that Elrond would recommend a hot bath, some wine, and a good night's sleep for you."

"And you?" Eomer asked, his voice slightly shaking.

"I shall be along shortly," Legolas told him, gripping him by the arm. "Save a cup for me. I will just finish up with Arod and be right behind you, my friend. Nothing has changed between us, Eomer. Nothing," he repeated firmly.

Eomer turned and left, and Legolas watched him go, a smile firmly across his fine features. Once Eomer left the stables, the elf covered his face with his hands and slumped back down to the floor.


	6. Secrets

**Secrets**

_'Til all my sleeves are stained red_  
_From all the truth that I've said_  
_Come by it honestly I swear_  
_Thought you saw me wink, no_  
_I've been on the brink,_

_One Republic_

Back in the White City, the company quickly fell back into it's own routine. Pippin, missing Merry, who had stayed behind to serve his King and his Lady in Rohan, followed Faramir like a small shadow, running errands for him and, as he reported to Gimli and Legolas, helping him decide which of the seventeen different outfits provided would be best for the forthcoming ceremonies. When Faramir had dismissed him for the evening, the hobbit would divide his time between Sam and Frodo, who were still recovering and enjoyed his jokes and tales about what the great persons of the city were about, and having a pint with the elf and dwarf.

Gimli was in his glory with the planning and the restorations. Aragorn had made it plain to everyone that the last decision on anything regarding the walls or structures of the city was Gimli's. As the grumbling masons and carpenters realized that the dwarf's vision for Minas Tirith was more wondrous than anything they could have devised on their own, they began to throw themselves whole-heartedly into the work. Even the old women took pride in the work they did, sweeping out ruined buildings, glad to play a small part in the rebirth of the city.

Aragorn, with Arwen by his side, tended the worst of the injured, the sick, and settled the disputes that inevitably arose. Arwen, now that her family, along with Gandalf, had returned to the north, was especially busy with healing. The city had taken her to its heart, and sometimes just the presence of the elf Queen was enough to comfort the worst cases. Her praises were sung loudly and she felt joy in her welcome.

It was the other elf of the White City that found himself at loose ends. For with all going on around him, Legolas did not find his skills really needed anywhere. He was a warrior, with no talent for healing. Gimli had draftsmen by the dozens to take down his every word and idea, turning them into workable diagrams. He started to feel lost in himself, wondering what his place here would be. There would be gardens, to be sure, but it was the wrong season for planting, and Gimli had not yet finished the areas in which they would be located. Aragorn always had time for a quick word and a cheerful buffet on the shoulder, but Legolas did not like to take him from important work. He rode Arod outside the city, scouting, but what was the point when ranger patrols did the same work, and quicker, too, knowing the area as he did not.

He pulled into himself. Gimli and Pippin noticed his laughter became softer, and then slightly forced. He began to spend time in the high places of the Citadel.

"Roof inspections," he said, half-mockingly, as Gimli and Pippin questioned him. He slept less and less, worrying Gimli, who wisely said nothing, knowing that the time had not yet come for Legolas to confide in him.

He ghosted through the streets at midnight, his Lorien cloak helping him to blend into shadows. There was something he felt he needed and had yet to find. It niggled at him, keeping him from rest, causing Gimli to throw pillows at him and order him to either settle down or get another room. He, who had always been silent and still, could no longer find peace in his own company.

A voice caught him, and he paused, by the door of the tavern. It was a trick of the night, of course. It was not the voice he sought, but it was close. He listened, hoping to hear that timbre, those vowel sounds that told him he'd found something close. But after a moment it laughed, and mocked him. Of course that was not what was missing in his life.

He crept in with the dawn, the early light making him seem but one more shadow in the citadel. Aragorn, with a ranger's eyes and patience was waiting for him.

"What is it?" he asked, concern creasing his face. "What are you hunting?"

"It's nothing," he told his friend, the lie plain on the fine boned features. "I'm not used to cities."

"Arwen is worried. So are Gimli and Pip. So am I." He gripped him by the shoulder. "You are not yourself, my friend. Tell me, maybe I can help."

"I feel caged. There's something missing here, not enough trees, or not enough stars." It was a close to the truth as he could get.

Aragorn looked carefully at him, worry in his blue eyes. "Do you need to go out to the forest for a while? You're not chained here, Legolas. I can't leave, but you and Gimli...,"

"Gimli's busy with the building, Aragorn. I can't drag him away right now." Legolas broke in. He drew his brows together and shook his head. "I just feel like I can't breathe, like there's something on my chest." He held up a hand to forestall Aragorn's question. "I'll be fine, maybe I'll take Arod out for a ride later, feel the grass under my feet again. Maybe it's just that there are so many people here."

"Brother mine, promise me you'll eat and rest before you do. Arwen will not forgive me if you fade away in my care." Aragorn told him, covering the love in his statement with a jest.

"She doesn't need to fuss, Aragorn. I'm not a child!" Legolas retorted, suddenly frustrated with having to explain himself.

"Then stop acting like one," Gimli said, coming upon them. "Worrying everyone. That's just like you."

"What are you doing up? It's not yet noon." The elf said, irrationally.

"I've been looking for you. While you may not care if Aragorn is left to the mercies of an angry wife, I refuse to be the one to tell your father you've wasted away. Now you'll take yourself to the kitchen and get something to eat."

Legolas lowered his brows, angry words on his lips, when he saw the determined look in the dwarf's eye. Some fights he was never going to win. "Fine!" he snapped. "But you can't force me to nap like a wean in the creche!" he said as he stormed away. Aragorn, with an apologetic glance at the dwarf followed his friend down the hall, matching his long stride.

"Ah, lad," Gimli whispered to himself. "He'll be back."

xxXxx

The party rode across the plains, the brilliant banners snapping in the wind. Eomer felt Firefoot almost dancing beneath him. The big horse was affected by his rider's mood, and it was not just joy at Eowyn's marriage that filled the man today. Merry's little horse was pushing to keep up with the big beast. From the crowd at the gates of Minas Tirith a lone horse detached itself and sped out to greet them. Eomer's smile widened as he recognized the gait, the rider pushing the horse to greater effort.

Legolas beamed as he turned Arod to meet and join the King's entourage. He pulled in beside Eomer, delight written across the tired features of his face. His heart sang as he beamed at the king, saluted his sister, nodded his greetings to Merry and the others.

"Why aren't you at the citadel?" Eomer called over the thunder of hooves.

"You're taking too long!" the elf yelled back. "Merry's dinner will be cold!" The hobbit smiled up at him from underneath his helm. The elf winked back, to Eowyn's surprise.

"Dignified entrance, Legolas!" Eomer replied, laughing. "Part of being a King."

They rode through the gates, saluting the cheering crowds, and made their way sedately through the circles of the White City, tack jangling and armour glinting in the sun. Eowyn blushed as the cry went up, "The White Lady! The White Lady is come!" and girls threw flowers in their path. She smiled and waved, overwhelmed by the welcome of the city. Merry's horse shied for a moment at the noise and confusion, and Legolas leaned forward to lay a hand on the animal's neck, settling it down. The movement caused another outcry from the crowd.

"Meriadoc! Meriadoc of the Shire! Esquire of Rohan!" Strong voices started singing, a joyful anthem, and Eomer fell back a bit, allowing Merry to ride beside Eowyn. The hobbit looked back at him, wonderingly.

"Go on, they want you!" Eomer said, checking Firefoot. He strained to hear the words sung by the crowd...

_Yet when the battle seemed most dark_

_A beacon of hope came from the Mark_

_The White Lady rode, fair Rohan's Pride_

_With brave Meriadoc at her side..._

"You know," Eomer said in an aside to Legolas, "I could have sworn _we_ were at that battle."

"Yes, but we were expected." Legolas told him sagely. "One doesn't get heroes like them every day."

In the shadow of the White Tree they stopped before the assembled dignitaries and accepted the salute of the guard. Eomer slid from his horse and embraced Aragorn, took Arwen's hand and gallantly kissed it. Then he bowed deeply to Frodo and Sam, who coloured slightly, although they were becoming used to the courtesy. He turned to assist his sister from her mount. She curtsied deeply to the King and Queen and turned a dazzling smile to Faramir, who stood behind his Lord, the silver on his livery paling in the light of the joy on his face.

Aragorn gave them a tight grin, and then turned to the crowds, his face calm and dignified. "Eomer King, my Brother of Rohan! You are most welcome in Gondor!" he said loudly, as the people quietened. "Your turn," he whispered from the side of his mouth. Eomer smiled, confident now, having been coached by Eowyn in the proper gestures.

"King Aragorn, Rohan is honoured to be here!" he called, bowing again.

"Now, you two," Aragorn said quietly, reaching behind him for Faramir's hand as Eomer reached for his sister.

"And Gondor is honoured that Eowyn, the White Lady, has accepted Faramir, Prince of Ithilien, Steward to the King, to be her husband!" He pulled Faramir forward as Eomer gave Eowyn a nudge and placed her hand in Faramir's. The he held them up. The crowd went wild. After more bowing and waving to the enthusiastic crowed, Aragorn led his distinguished guests inside, leaving the commons to celebrate as they would.

Inside the citadel, the formalities were dropped and a mad rush ensued as friends embraced. Gimli, showing none of the reserve of the others, rushed up to Eowyn and gladly took her hands in his and kissed them. "How wonderful to see you, my Lady!"

"And you, Gimli!" she replied, laughing, reaching down to embrace the dwarf. "I worried for a moment when I noticed your elf was riding by himself."

"Only because he's been dancing about like a flea all morning! We had to let him run loose before he went mad." He nodded over at the elf who stood behind Eomer, grinning wildly. "It's good to see you, lass." He laughed as he shook her hands gently.

Eowyn smiled at the elf, who bowed. "My Lady," he said quietly.

Eowyn's attention was caught by Pippin who was hugging Merry fiercely, nearly knocking him into her.

"Gentlemen, I think that's enough," Aragorn said, clasping both hobbits on the shoulder. They grinned up at him. "It's only been a few weeks, after all."

"Come along, my friends, let us check on the meal, while our guests freshen up," Legolas told the hobbits. He led them away, allowing them to have their reunion in private, more content than the hobbits had seen him in days.

xxXxx

"Why do you always do that?" Gimli asked him as they met up later in their room to clean up before dinner.

"Do what?" Legolas asked in return, stretching his long legs out on the bed they shared.

"Eowyn. You never try to make conversation, you just run off and hide. It's not like you to be shy."

"It's nothing to do with you, Gimli. She likes _you_."

The dwarf finished combing out his beard and began plaiting it. "What are you talking about? Of course she likes you. Everyone likes you."

Legolas smiled at his companion. "Just because you do, you assume everyone else feels the same way. I make her uncomfortable."

"You're being ridiculous. She likes elves, look at her with the Queen. Thick as hobbits. She even danced with Elrond at Aragorn's wedding."

"Pay attention. She likes elves. She likes dwarves. She likes hobbits. Eru help her, she even likes you! She is uncomfortable around me, Legolas." He patted his chest for emphasis.

Gimli turned and raised the brush as if it were his throwing axe. "If you've offered her any insult, you pointy eared..."

Legolas raised his hands in mock defense. "Put that down before you hurt yourself! I've done nothing!"

"Than what are you prattling about!"

"Gimli," the elf said, swinging his legs over the side of the bed, and looking at his friend with serious eyes. "If I told you, then I would be betraying secrets that are not mine. Can you understand that? I wish I could tell you, because of myself, I can't see a way out of it."

"Here's an idea," the dwarf replied. "Try saying more than good day to her once in a while. Whatever you've done to that poor lass, you need to make it up to her."

"It's not that easy," Legolas began, but Gimli cut him off.

"Try. Elves may take centuries to make up a quarrel, the rest of us don't have that kind of time." He finished his hair and turned to the elf. "Now, let's get down to dinner."

_How can I make up for a offense I can't admit I've given?_ Legolas thought, as he followed the dwarf out of their room. _I was in the wrong place at the wrong time, and overheard a conversation she wishes she'd never had. She may forgive Aragorn for it listening to those hasty words, but she'll never forgive me for witnessing her shame._

Dinner found Legolas seated across from Gimli and next to Eomer. Frodo and Sam joined their end of the table, as Merry and Pip served their lords, Merry's curly head popping between Eomer and the elf's shoulders to pour wine or serve some savoury dish. He grinned far more than any Esquire at table had a right to, Gimli told him.

Legolas said little, but smiled much, and Gimli was relieved to see the elf eat with a hearty appetite for the first time in weeks. In fact, the elf seem surprised when his meal was finished, and Merry brought him cream filled pastries.

"Much better than lembas," Gimli said, helping himself to one. He winked at Sam.

"Nothing is better than lembas" the elf told him, raising an eyebrow. Sam and Frodo both groaned at him.

"What?" he asked.

"No offense intended, Legolas, but if I never see another piece of lembas, it it'll be too soon." Sam said, with a wry grin.

"Although we are grateful it kept us alive. But hobbits don't live by lembas alone." Frodo said, with a hint of a smile.

"No, we had the bog water as well," Sam pointed out.

Merry chuckled encouragingly, as it was the first joke about their adventures the pair had shared. Eomer and Legolas laughed softly as well, and Gimli nodded at them in approval.

Legolas watched as Eomer bit into the creamy pasty, a bit of it sticking to his beard, and had the almost uncontrollable urge to wipe it away. Suddenly, the joy he'd felt all day dissolved into something wretched, as he realized what had been wrong with him the past weeks. He forced himself to sip at his wine, keeping his face stoic. He picked at the pastry on his plate, finally waving at Merry to take it away.

Gimli, who had been relaxing, stiffened as he saw the light die in his friend's eyes. Looking around, he quickly saw that no one else had noticed. Legolas managed to keep up the pretence until the dinner was over and they rose from table. Then he hurried from the room, the dwarf quickly following.

"Legolas, lad," Gimli said, his voice full of empathy. "Slow down! I cannot keep up with you!"

"I need to be alone, Gimli!" he replied, still striding down the hall. "We'll talk later!"

"No one knows, lad," Gimli told him gently. "You hid it very well."

The elf stopped in his tracks. "How long have you known, then?" he asked, acid in his voice.

"Long enough." The dwarf turned as they heard the voices in the hall. "Go, I'll give you as much time as I can, lad. But he'll be wanting to talk to you tonight."

Legolas gripped the dwarf's shoulder and sprinted down the rest of the hall, slipping out the open window.

Eomer was looking for the elf. The hobbits all shrugged their shoulders at him, and clustered together by the fire, a pot of tea to hand, and caught up with each others news. Merry was delighted to see some of the old Frodo back, as he sat in the huge armchair, and was fussed at by Sam. Pip was glad to see some of the sorrow at Theoden's death lifted from his friend.

Aragorn and Faramir were in deep discussion of the ranger's reports that had come that day, and they hadn't seen the elf. Arwen and Eowyn discussed wedding plans, trying to come up with some compromise between the customs of Gondor and Rohan. Legolas had barely said a word to either that day, they discovered, and went back to the difficult task of blending cultures.

Gimli was outside, smoking a quiet pipe and looking with pleasure at the scaffolding that marked the new walls going up. Too soon for his peace of mind, Eomer came looking for his friend. He sighed quietly to himself, as he turned to face the man.

"He's off doing an elf thing," he answered Eomer vaguely. "Something about the stars or the moon or some such frippery." He noticed how the man's face fell.

"I thought that you'd know for sure where he was," he said softly. "He told me you were his best friend."

"That's the truth," Gimli said, with a shrug. "It's a little deeper than that, though," he said, with a hint of steel in his voice. "I'll defend the lad to the death, you understand, look after him, take care of him. We're bound together, you see, and not just because of his father, he finished, with a menacing grin.

"Oh," Eomer said, not knowing how to answer that, trying to follow the implications of it. Gimli took another pull at his pipe and relented.

"He considers you a close friend, too," the dwarf said. "So I think you'll find him eventually."

Eomer found the elf on the promontory of the city. He'd taken to perching up there, during his dark days, looking with sad eyes out across the plains, out to Ithilien, the river, the shadow of the mountain in the distance.

"May I join you?" he asked, standing a respectful distance away. The blackened earth of the plains still showed the scars of the battle, even now he fancied he could smell the death, the awful pyres that had burned horse and orc and man alike.

The elf turned somber eyes to the man. "Of course. But I believe we should step away from the ledge. Were anything to happen to you, I have no doubt that your sister would hold me responsible. And she is quick with a blade, Eomer King."

Eomer chuckled at that, and was answered by a fleeting smile. The elf unfolded himself and they walked to one of the stone benches set into recesses along the walk. They sat together, and Legolas looked closely at the man. "I meant no disrespect to the Lady Eowyn," he said, carefully.

"You have given none, Legolas" Eomer said. "She is fast. And hot tempered."

"A very passionate lady indeed," Legolas said, almost absently. Then he swung his head around to look the man in the face. "I am sorry, I meant.."

"Not at all." Eomer grinned at him. "She's eager to be married."

The elf nodded. "Faramir is a lucky man."

"It still bothers me, this suddenness, though," Eomer said, looking back out across the plains. "I worry sometimes that she's rushing things because of all this." He waved out towards the east, where the dread threat had been so very terrible, not so very long ago. "Aragorn is very pleased about it though."

"Yes, he is," Legolas replied, with a strange nuance in his voice. "But it is well that we have joy now, in the aftermath of all this desolation. Your sister will be very happy in her new life, although you will be loathe to lose her."

"Legolas, may I ask you something personal?" Eomer said, watching his reaction.

"Of course." the elf replied.

"You speak so formally sometimes. Yet the Lady Arwen does not, so I assume it is not a cultural conditioning. And I admit, when I have heard you jesting with Gimli and the hobbits, and even with me, your speech patterns are much more relaxed. Why?"

Legolas laughed, and Eomer released breath he didn't realize he was holding. It was a merry sound, and it warmed him.

"What you call formal, I would call careful. This is not my first language, after all." He laughed again, at himself. "You may call it foolish pride, but I am the son of a King. I would not wish to make a mistake in company." He grinned at the man, suddenly making him look very young indeed. "When I am alone, I think in Sindarin, and sometimes it takes a moment to switch back to the cadence of Westron.

"I'm not company, Legolas. I promise I won't laugh," Eomer told him, with an answering grin. "The little bit of Sindarin I've heard is very beautiful. Would you say something in it for me? I won't understand it, but I would like to hear the it again." He gave no hint of the eagerness, no, the longing he had to hear those sounds that had been such a comfort to him that night in the stable.

"What will I say?" Legolas asked, as he looked into the deep hazel eyes. He slipped into his native tongue. "Eomer, I will say that to see you smile takes my breath. That to watch you laugh is better than summer rain on thirsty green leaves. I would gladly take all your pain upon myself to spare you. I would tell you that I have been lost these days while you have been away from me, that I had not known what was in my heart until I saw you ride up and greet with me joy and now it will not be silenced. I would tell you that you bring sunlight to my life, that I would never be away from you again, but also that I know that I must keep these truths to myself, lest you shut me out." He stopped and looked away. "You will always be Mir to me, beloved and cherished."

"That was beautiful," Eomer said, softly. "What did it mean?"

"It doesn't translate well, but that I am happy you count me among your friends." The elf looked bleakly over the desolate plains once again, and something in the shift of his shoulders told Eomer he was unhappy. Unhesitatingly he wrapped an arm around the elf and pulled him into a rough hug. Legolas froze for a second, wondering if somehow Eomer had understood everything he'd said.

"I'm sorry, Legolas," the big man said, continuing the embrace. "You must miss being with other elves, and it was unkind of me to ask for something that would remind you of home. It's been hardest on you, I think sometimes, being so young and so far from your kin."

_Home_, Legolas thought. _This is home, right here, right now, with you shielding me from the world. You are mistaken, Mir, I'm not missing home, I'm terrified of being in exile again_. He allowed himself the comfort of leaning back into Eomer's embrace.

Eomer continued to hold the elf, who, to his joy, did not pull away, as he much feared he might. Between them was comfort, one friend to another. He was grateful to return some of the care and concern the elf had shown him over the past weeks. Neither wanted to break the embrace, and sat comfortably, neither realizing the true feelings of the other.


End file.
